


Singing in my Sleep

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Late Night Conversations, Literally as much soft as I could shove in one fic, M/M, so very soft, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 12:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11532297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: Keith and Shiro have never really needed words.  But they have a conversation anyway





	Singing in my Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashinan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashinan/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Andy!

Soft groaning woke Keith.

At first, it wasn’t enough to wake him.  He resisted the pull.  His sleep had been warm and comfortable so far, and he was loathe to leave so easily.  But something jarred his shoulder, pushing him further toward wakefulness.  Giving up, Keith blinked his eyes open.

He was in the rec room.  The lights were off, even the lines along the walls, except for the projected screen in front of the couch.  A movie menu on quiet loop was the only source of light, casting the room in pale grays and blues.

Not the source of the noise or the impact, then.

Another ragged moan filled the otherwise peaceful room.  Looking over, Keith blinked hard to focus his eyes better.  Shiro was pressed against his side, heavy and asleep.  In the gentle, cool lighting, the harsh lines of his jaw and nose were softened and blended. His brow was furrowed deeply and his eyes flickered under their lids.  

A dream.  Probably a nightmare, though not one to wake him screaming.  At least, not yet.

“Shiro,” Keith called, voice rough and low.  He was reluctant to break the quiet atmosphere, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the moment.  Nudging to the side, he jarred Shiro, hopefully enough to wake him without scaring him.  “Shiro, c’mon.”

It was easy to tell exactly when Shiro woke.  He froze utterly, his groan cutting off mid-breath.  His brow didn’t unknot and he didn’t open his eyes, but his lips pressed thin and turned down.

“Sorry,” Keith offered.  “Figured I’d interrupt before it got bad.”

Shiro finally cracked his eyes open.  His tongue flickered out to wet his lips.  Keith’s eyes started to follow the movement, but he snapped them back up.  

“Did I wake you?”  Shiro asked, voice barely audible.

“No,” Keith lied immediately.  “I was drowsing.  The menu was keeping me up.”

Shiro blinked, then glanced over at the projected screen.  “Oh.  Shoot.  We should head to bed then, huh?”  His voice steadied and strengthened, unnaturally quickly.

Reaching out, Keith snagged onto Shiro’s sleeve.  “Hey.”

Shiro froze, then looked down at him.  “Yeah?  Something up?”

The words died in Keith’s throat, if they’d ever existed.  Instead he was just left with intentions and feelings and no way of expressing them, despite the intensity.

Keith tugged harder, until Shiro pressed more firmly against his side.  “No.”

Brows up, Shiro considered Keith.  “No to going to bed?”

“No to this.  No to you doing this.  No to leaving.”

Shiro swallowed hard, eyes wide.  “Keith, it’s late.  I don’t know what you mean.”

Staring back, Keith set his jaw.  “Yes, you do.”  Shiro always knew what Keith meant, usually before he’d figured out what the churning in his chest meant.

“No, I don’t.”  But Shiro looked away, gaze distant as he stared at the screen.  “It’s just- this is how it is.”

“Says you.”

“Yeah, says me.”  Shiro lifted his head, still not looking over.  “I do say.”

Dammit.  Keith hated arguing with Shiro.  He could just get stubborn or pretend not to understand what Keith meant, and he was left undermined in a conversation.

It was part of why Keith had stepped back.  He’d given Shiro space, between letting them both get used to their new roles and Keith learning his heritage.  There had always been something else, there had never been time.

Screw it.  They were making time now.

“You didn’t used to say that,” Keith replied.  “Would you still wake me up when you were scared?”

Shiro barked out a laugh, loud in contrast to their rough whispers.  “You’d never sleep, Keith,” he admitted.

“Fine,” Keith replied stubbornly.  “I’m okay with that.”  He moved closer, cheek pressed against Shiro’s shoulder. “What if you find a snake in the bathroom?”

The old reference made Shiro chuckle.  “There aren’t snakes in space,” he reminded.  But an elbow to the side got him back on track.  “You’re right.  I wouldn’t anymore.  I’d deal with it.  But I’m more used to doing things that used to scare me.”

Keith nodded, bitter but unsurprised.  “You could still ask me.  I wouldn’t mind.”

“I know,” Shiro admitted.  “But it’s different now.  I’m different now.”

Keith glanced up at him through his bangs.  The strands crossed through his vision, blurry and dark, like out of focus bars over Shiro’s face.  “Not that different.”

Taking a deep, ragged breath, Shiro glanced back down.  “You think so?”

“Yeah.  You’ve got scars.  You’ve changed.  But you’re you.  I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Shiro’s jaw worked, nearly a tremble.  He took another deep, steadying breath.  “You haven’t seen all of it.  I don’t know all of it.”

“It doesn’t matter.  I know- you’re scared.  I know that.  But Shiro, you’re still you.”

It felt like platitudes.  It felt like the obvious.  It felt like Keith never had the right words.

But with Shiro, he didn’t always need them.  Shiro got it, just like he did now.  His eyes slammed shut, and his nose crinkled under the force, making the scar over his nose ripple. “Keith.”

There weren’t words, but Keith had actions. So he reached up to cup Shiro’s cheek, turning his head down and to the side.  Surging up, Keith matched the action, pressing their foreheads together.

Shiro’s eyes went wide, his mouth falling open in a gentle part.  Keith could feel his breath ghosting over Keith’s face, gently ruffling the hair that curled back toward his face.  Shiro’s cheek was so warm under his palm, even despite the gloves he’d fallen asleep in.  It might have been from bundling together on a little couch and overheating.  More likely, that was just how Shiro was.

Most people had words for these moments.  Keith even knew them from tv shows and movies over the years.  Three short words, not even ten letters and all.

Shiro used those words easily and freely.  Most of the team did.  Even when Keith agreed, he didn’t always use them.  They’d never come out right in his mouth, clunking around his tongue like huge marbles.  They were simple words but huge concepts, a vulnerability he’d never managed to express.

But he didn’t need to.

Instead, Shiro reached over take Keith’s free hand in his own.  Their fingers lanced together, palm to palm, heat to heat.  It sparked between them, a silent answer to a silent statement.  A match.

Looking down at where their fingers tangled, Keith took a deep breath, then met Shiro’s eyes.

They were wide and open, none of the usual walls, none of the command or persona he’d been hiding behind.  This was the Shiro that Keith knew and now only he saw.  The one that had snuck out night after night, snickering and flushed.  Who had spent weekends at Keith’s inherited shack, pressed against his back in the shared, ratty cot.  Who would offer Keith advice about instructors and simulations and tests, and who would let Keith see his fears and anxieties in return.  The one who had laid out in the desert dust for four hours, staring up at the sky and repeating that he was finally going.  That he’d miss Keith.  That next time, they’d go together.

It was a promise they’d accidentally kept.

Shiro’s eyes ran over Keith’s face, awed.  He didn’t say what he was feeling, but Keith imagined it was like what he was feeling.

They were matched.  They had both been feeling this way for so long.  They had both wanted this, and neither of them had quite dared to reach out the rest of the way.  There had been too much between them.

Now, Keith didn’t care anymore.  The things between them were ones he didn’t mind trampling over.  He’d be the one to trust his instincts and move forward.

There were times to listen to their head. Most of the time, even.

But not right now.

“Can we…”  Shiro took a deep breath, squeezing Keith’s hand harder.  “Can we do this somewhere else?  One of our rooms?”

Oh.  “Yeah.  As long as you’re not running again.”

Shiro shook his head, guilty.  “Not now, no.”

Pushing off the couch was nearly painful.  It had been so warm to tangle with Shiro.  But he also ached from the bad position, and laying down properly sounded like a great idea.  Especially with someone else.

Keith offered his hand in help, brows up meaningfully.

At first, Shiro started to push himself up.  Then he spotted the hand and gave a sheepish smile, taking it.

It was a good thing it was so late, because Keith felt no shame in walking Shiro to his room with their hands still firmly clasped.  Once, Shiro started to pull back, but the second he felt resistance, he gave in like he was relieved.  

The door opened silently to Keith's code.  He settled down on his bed, and Shiro followed immediately.  They laid face to face, hands still clasped, foreheads finding each other again, knees pressed together and foot hooked over each other’s ankles.

Without the noise of the movie menu, Keith was hyper aware of their breathing and the quiet, white noise of the castle.  He rubbed his thumb over Shiro’s knuckles, enjoying the rough feeling under his thumb.

Shiro bit on his bottom lip, and Keith could practically see him calculating, weighing and rejecting what he wanted to say.  Finally, he took a deep breath.  “Would it ruin this to talk?”

“No,” Keith replied easily.  

Brows jumping, Shiro didn’t quite look like he believed that.

Fair enough, but Keith did.  What would ruin this wasn’t words and communication.  What would ruin it was hiding out.

Nodding, Shiro sighed heavily.  “It’s not going to be like it was.”

“I know.”

“I mean it, Keith.  I can’t just sleep against your back anymore.  It’s not snakes that wake me up anymore.”

Keith’s brows rose, unimpressed.  Of course that was all true.  He wasn’t stupid.  “Then I’ll sleep against your back,” he replied.  “And whatever wakes you, we’ll deal with and you’ll go back to bed, just like always.”

Groaning, Shiro pressed their foreheads together harder.  “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is.”  Keith rolled his eyes, irritation melting away his reluctance to speak.  “Because right now you’re thinking of all the annoying things you do, like wake me up or need space or shut down. None of which is different, just at a different level.  And I still don’t care.  Yeah, you’re different.  Yeah, you’ve been through things.  But, Shiro, you left.  You left me behind, on purpose and on accident.  And I’m still here.  If I can forgive that, I can forgive your nightmares.”

That froze Shiro, so utterly his eyes stopped moving and his breath caught.

Keith ducked his head, staring down at their pressed knees instead of meeting Shiro’s gaze.

There wasn’t anything worse than being left behind.  Shiro had done it more than anyone else in Keith’s life.  He was the one who showed up, wormed his way under Keith’s skin, made himself a necessary part of Keith’s day, a part of who he was. Then Shiro left, over and over, in so many ways.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro murmured, voice choked.  “I didn’t- you’re right.  But I could have done worse things than that, Keith.”

“Not to me,” Keith replied.  “Everything else we can work with.  Everything else was done to you. But the leaving was on purpose, at least once.”

Shiro nodded.  He unclasped their hands so he could run his knuckles down Keith’s cheek, rough against the soft, sensitive flesh.  The brush made Keith’s hair stand on end, suddenly, achingly aware of himself and the heat between them.

“You’re right,” he murmured.  “You are.  I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.  I already did.  I always have.”  Keith finally looked back up, meeting Shiro’s eyes.  It was hard to tell in the dim lighting, but his dark eyes looked even deeper, like they were wet.  “I always will.”

Shiro’s breath caught again, this time around something that sounded like tears.  His hand splayed, palm huge and gentle against Keith’s neck and ear.  Slowly, he inched him closer, sliding him across the pillow.

Their lips met.

It wasn’t fireworks or sunrise.  It was just like every other touch, every other brush of the back of their hands, each time their shoulders collided.  How it felt to have Shiro’s breath against the back of his neck and his arm over Keith’s waist.

It felt like every other moment lead organically, inevitably, finally to this.

It felt like home.

Shiro pulled back first.  His tongue flicked out, like he was chasing the heat and sensation of Keith’s lips.

There were words for this too, probably.  But Keith just looked over each detail of Shiro that he could see, trying to commit it all to memory.  He wanted to be able to run this moment over in his mind again and again, like the first time he went through a simulation.  His heart pounded and all of him thrummed, ready for the next moment.

Shiro was more hesitant, calmer.  Or, at least, he looked like it.  Instead, he reached out and ran his fingers down Keith’s nose.  “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith replied, his own voice a croak.  “Sure.”

Nodding, Shiro used two fingers to smooth down each of Keith’s brows.  Then he traced the line of his cheekbones, following that to his lips.  He tapped the soft flesh, then ran the pad of his thumb over it.  Keith’s mouth fell open automatically.  Shiro flashed a smile, a hint of light reflecting off his lips and teeth.

“What are you looking for?”

Shiro paused, seeming confused by the question.  “Nothing.  It’s all here.  I just… I wanted to, and I couldn’t before.  So I want to now.  While I can.”

Expression softening, Keith held onto Shiro’s waist.  “You can in the morning.”

“Maybe,” Shiro replied.  “You’ll let me, probably.  But I don’t know if I can.”

Ah.  There was safety in this moment, quiet and alone and dark. It was a layer removed from real, half a step to the left of their lives.

“I’ll remind you,” Keith replied.

Shiro smiled, reaching back to tuck a strand of hair behind Keith’s ear.  “Thank you.”  Then he pressed Keith’s bangs back, revealing his face completely.  “I’m doing it now anyway.”

Smiling back, Keith shrugged.  “You’re allowed.”

Shiro nodded, the very tips of his fingers dancing over Keith’s jaw, then down his neck.

Once there was nothing between them again, Keith leaned forward to kiss him.  His heart was pounding, had been nearly this whole time, but it was fun and familiar.

Shiro smiled into the kiss, matching each chaste press.  “Keith.  You know I…”  

“Yeah, I know.”  Keith didn’t elaborate, not even a ‘me too.’

He didn’t need to.  Shiro knew.

Besides, each kiss was answer enough.

Eventually the presses slowed to messy slides.  Their breathing evened, their hearts settled.

But their foreheads and noses still brushed, their knees still touched, their feet were still tangled and hooked.

Tomorrow would come, and with it reality.

But for this, it was enough for them both to be here.


End file.
